Life pedals slowly along here in The Hague. Monday rolls into the midweek and on to the weekend like the buns of a fat Dutch lady leaning into a turn. There is an air of indifference that fills the city, which I must say, I quite like. Nobody seems to care about anyone else much. There’s no malice, just blissful ignorance.
I have purchased a shiny dutch bike that I have dubbed “The Babushka” on account of its grandma-ish frame. It travels at approximately the same speed as my grandma as well, but that is just fine with me. There is nothing more pleasant than pedalling indifferently through an indifferent city. Having a bike also offers one the chance to unleash some spectacular cropdusts on unwitting individuals and make a quick getaway, with the added advantage of no “friendly fire” (i.e., cropdusting yourself).
My biggest issue currently is that I really need a haircut. Some commentators have questioned its timeless style. In the words of one:
“Dude, what is doing with that mop? It appears that a small rodent has perished on your head.”
(S. Foster et al, August 2008).
Continue reading ‘2. In which the perished rodent enters a glorious afterlife.’